Every word has a story.Every bottle has a different hand.The color of the hand doesn’t matter.The age of the hand doesn’t matter.The country where the hand was conceived doesn’t matter.Every single spray is preciousOn every square inch of this simple concrete lies a statementEach painted layer is so complex,Words overtop words,Proclamations of people dying to be heard Anger, grief, jealousy, heartbreak, frustrationor a burst of happiness.